


you put colour on the walls

by agentpolastri



Series: your hands can heal, your hands can bruise [2]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Kisses, Post S3, and talking, brief discussion about the devil wears prada, musing about the possibilities, soft, they’re cuddling!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:13:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24665167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentpolastri/pseuds/agentpolastri
Summary: I’ll rewrite this whole life, and this time there’ll be so much love you won’t be able to see beyond it.After a long day, Eve and Villanelle muse about what-ifs.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: your hands can heal, your hands can bruise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781422
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	you put colour on the walls

The question comes in the dark cloak of night. They are bundles of softness buried deep under cashmere sheets and a fluffy blanket, even fluffier robes clinging to their bodies from when they had been too lazy to discard them after their bath. What could they say? Dismantling an international crime syndicate was exhausting, even if Eve was surprisingly more athletic than originally thought. Villanelle still had yet to figure out how the older woman had gotten to the bridge so fast in the wedged shoes she had been sporting, let alone acknowledging the huge parka she always wore. 

“If you had the chance to do it all again,” Villanelle started, “would you?” 

Her fingers traced lightly along the silhouette of Eve’s body, following the curve of her shoulder, her waist, the softness of her bare thigh under the sheet. Eve stared back at her in the dark with that _look,_ the one that she got when everything froze in time because she just had to _think._ She saw it on the bed in Paris, had caught a glimpse of it in the kitchen while the warm weight of Eve’s hand had caressed her face, and had stared deeply into it on the London bridge in a focused attempt at memorizing the lines of her face for what seemed like would be the last time. The sorrow gripped her heart in that moment and gave it a painful squeeze, only got worse when she told Eve to turn around. 

She had felt like she had been laying on the bathroom floor all over again, all the pieces of herself scattered everywhere and not a single jolt of wanting left to even put them back together. It wouldn’t have ever mattered, because Eve cradled so many pieces of Villanelle in her hands that she never would have been whole in the first place without the sweet give and take of her smile. 

“Are we talking about the exact same way, or something different?” Eve finally asks, the husk of her voice breaking their peaceful silence. Her breath fans against Villanelle’s face slowly, like the honey drizzling off of the wooden spoon they had used for breakfast earlier in the day. 

Villanelle purses her lips. “Do you think we could have happened any differently?” 

Eve smiles at her like she has a secret. It’s dizzying to Villanelle, she could kiss it right off of her face if she wasn’t so invested in her answer already. 

“I think we would find each other in every lifetime,” she confesses quietly, the words pouring out of her mouth like they were predestined to be heard out loud instead of simply resting in her mind like she had thought thousands of times before. “Like a permanent pain in Carolyn’s ass.” 

Villanelle chuckles and allows the thick energy to dispel around them at the mention of Eve’s increasingly harried ex-boss. Her eyebrows quirk along with the corner of her lips. 

“I would do it just to annoy all of the other Carolyns,” Villanelle adds unhelpfully, and the two of them grinned maniacally at each other in the privacy of their bedroom. 

“Oh, so it has absolutely nothing to do with me?” Eve challenges. She slightly raises her head off of the pillow and dares to scoot forward until their knees knock out of sight and the heat radiating off of the assassin is so much more palpable than before. This close, she could count the blonde strands of her hair that were haphazardly throw around the frame of her face. She could see the way interest lit up in Villanelle’s gaze, but there never was a time when there wasn’t a spark of energy when it was just the two of them like this. So close, so personal, so intimate. Just them free-falling together with full confidence that they wouldn’t catch each other but would rather meet the ground as one force. 

Villanelle rolls hers eyes, but her expression is subdued by an otherworldly affection. “Absolutely not. You are not that exciting, you know,” she says haughtily. 

Eve pulls herself impossibly closer until their bodies were wedged together, partly out of sheer stubbornness and mostly because she knew it would elicit a warm smile from Villanelle along with a couple not-so-secretive glances down to her lips. They basked in the moment, a silence passing between them before Eve couldn’t help but snicker to herself. 

“Not even when I do this?” She asked, half a mumble as she leaned down to capture Villanelle’s lips with her own in a tender gesture. The kiss was quickly broken when Villanelle winced, and it hits Eve like a ton of bricks when she remembers the barely-healed gash on the assassin’s top lip. Her thumb comes up to ghost it as her face crumpled apologetically. 

“I’m sorry, are you sure y—“ Villanelle cuts her off, then, but it’s plainly obvious when she carefully maneuvers them to avoid hitting the injured patch of skin. Eve can’t find it in herself to mind as she feels a hand begin to thread itself through her thick curls. They continued like that for what felt like an eternity, not particularly pushing to get anywhere, just appreciating the moment to themselves among all the chaos. 

“I think it would have been pretty cool if I was a model and you were a designer or something, though,” Villanelle says once they break away to catch their breaths. Eve stares at her, trying to connect the dots, until their previous conversation comes to mind. 

She laughs. 

“You’re saying I would be a designer? You complain about my clothes all the time,” Eve reasons. She had gotten much better since Villanelle had swept in and forced her to go shopping for a new wardrobe, but she had secretly stashed away a couple turtlenecks and her beloved parka nonetheless. At _least_ for old times sake. Or a disguise, even. 

Realization dawns on Villanelle’s face. “Oh, well... _You_ be the model, then—you could be my muse!” She exclaims with a sudden epiphany. She nods to herself as if it was set in stone, and not a wild theory about them meeting over and over again in different lives and circumstances. 

“Who’s Carolyn, then?” Eve asks dryly. Villanelle screws up her face. 

“You know Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada?” She needles. 

Eve can already see where this is going, and holds back a smile. “Yes.”

“Her.”

**Author's Note:**

> done as part of a request for villanelle-lesbian on tumblr!   
> 11\. when one stops the kiss to whisper “i’m sorry, are you sure you-“ and they answer by kissing them more
> 
> i’m @topeve on tumblr. come say hi!


End file.
